The great weaver
The master
Sews the strings and sinew as the Persians
A tapestry, unique
Pieces, parts, and patterns
Deep in ecstatic reverence
To shining features,
And what's more
the glowing being underneath, within.
The threads and bones,
Drawn upon the loom
In perfect practice of the
Sacred art
A heart, radiant
A strength, a courage
A wisdom and a stalwart sojourn
And at the last moment,
The great weaver sews a sour stitch.
Just a touch, a bit,
Not to dance upon the grave of beauty,
But to grace perfection
With a stroke of humanity.
So the evils be not tempted
Into addressing
What is so treasured.
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